Falling asleep during a pandemic

At the start of the pandemic, I reread some of the Buddhist teachings about facing and embracing death, but honestly, my life-long practice has been much more around the denial of death and aging than leaning into acceptance of either. Lying in bed at the close of the day, with fears exploding and my body wishing to sleep, what calms me is a blend of breathing and dreaming.

For a while, at night during my sourdough fling, I thought about kneading a loaf of bread, turning the dough over and over. I’ve thought many times about the cool, grey water on a lake in Michigan where I watched the small, rhythmic waves slap the dock as I sat in a rocker on the porch, or went out in a boat and rowed. I’ve also thought about a wooded trail, walking through trees as sun filters down through brown branches and green leaves. Also walking on the beach, waves crashing as sun sparkles and cooling breezes blow. Sometimes, if none of these thoughts work, I imagine my childhood home as I walk through the rooms and look in the closets, or the now-defunct enormous ice rink I skated around, over and over, on the top of an office building in midtown New York.

If I am lucky, I drowse off into a half-dream, and then asleep. Usually, I am then out for the next five hours. At that point, I get up in the middle of the night and pee. After that, I go back to bed and either fall asleep instantly or I don’t.

If I am awake in bed, I try to not revert to thoughts like “What if I have a sore throat and I wake up with the start of COVID-19 and it’s too late to do anything about it, anyway?” and “What if I never see my son again and get sick and die and I can’t see him before that happens?” and ‘What if I get sick and have to be intubated?”

In the dark, I have to push all that away. I concentrate on how cool the sheets feel, how cozy the blankets are, how deeply my partner is breathing, and how much I want to close my eyes and sleep because it is still night and not yet morning.

And then, at a certain point, my eyes open once more, and even with the blackout shades drawn, I know it is the day.

And I am alive, and I am not sick, and there is #Gratitude.

More weekly stuff in your inbox. Would you like to read more? To keep up to date with other essays — and more — sign up for email updates by following this link and clicking subscribe.